Bicentennial
by I.Magickal.Vivian
Summary: There's a careful veneer covering the face of the world and people believed whatever was convenient for them to believe. they didn't want the truth only a pretty lie. The Bicentennial Grande Festival had come at last and things that were better hidden were coming to the surface, his eyes moved to Cynthia and he laughed to keep from screaming, "Now I kind of wished we both drowned."


He was a son of a sailor descended from a line of the finest seamen that ever sailed any of the great oceans. The name Alexandria held weight all around the world, even in this land so far and so barren compared to his own. Tried and true he had stood his ground against his trial of manhood, stood his ground against the full force of the Leviathan's wraith on a fishing vessel in the heart of the storm. He was Valentyne son of David, son of Shannon, son of Jaden, son of Louis, son of Marcus.

This was his home, his castle, and he shouldn't ashamed to be what nature itself had intended him to be. He knew exactly what he should be doing, how he should be doing it, why he should be doing it. The fact that he wasn't in the barren lands didn't change the fact that she had been right and that what he had accepted as a true of his nature in the Necropolis was true in Slateport City as well. The truth of the world didn't change from hemisphere to hemisphere; his aspect shouldn't change from year to year depending the people around him. He was old enough, wise enough, now that his self-worth should not be effected by the opinions of others.

Valentyne closed his eyes and tried to fill his mind with positive things like she had taught him when he had finally accepted that what she was doing was for his benefit. Inhaling deeply the scent of the sea breeze and the cooking food from the nearby pier filled his nostrils and invoked the memories of his youth. The air smelled uniquely like Slateport which, in the last few years had become more of a place to touch down before leaving again to either the wilds or the sea. Some of the older fisherman would have called it 'wander lust' and make comments similar to "they always come back and stay where things are familiar". That was true to an extent, his parents lived here as did their siblings and their parents.

Those memories of his parents and their house near the Slateport Contest Grounds brought up the days when he would watch his mother compete; she was the single most beautiful woman in the world, although Solidad was a close second. A _very_ close second.

If things had gone well for her during this recent contest season she would be packing into the city with the rest of the fans and contestants for the Bicentennial Grande Festival. Slateport City had been chosen over Ever Grande for the sheer convenience, Slateport was the port where people and Pokemon from all over the world crossed paths. It gave competitors from all over the world a taste of the new and exotic with just a dash of home, the fact that Slateport was one of the largest shipping ports in the world was why it had been chosen over Lilycove. It meant an overabundance of tourists but that was worth enduring for the major boost in their economy that accompanied a sudden influx of tourists.

He had returned to Slateport just in time for the event through sheer coincidence, if he had known he would have pushed his visit back another two weeks. There was still a distinctive part of him that was walking on eggshells around strangers reminding him that he was technically just an outpatient that had to make regular visits to Mauville three or four times a week. Valentyne would have to deal with stares from a handful of individuals and deal with the self-disgust that was still very much there just waiting to well up inside of him like steam from the smoke stacks of ships that came into the harbor.

Pushing that away the he focused on the lesson that he had been taught in his time in the Necropolis; a painfully embarrassing exercise that had yielded astounding results. A part of him wanted to just stop and go wash his hands but the chances that Spark or Lola was somehow watching was too great, the last time that he had stopped his sex therapist had shown up in his room and informed him that she had relocated to the Thirdling Kingdom for an undetermined amount of time.

The side of his house struck the pier and the bariatric pressure changed abruptly, popping uncomfortably in his ears as a warning to get on with it. The part of him that was still very much a little boy flushed brilliantly at the thought of being caught with his hand in his pants but the man that had endured within the Necropolis pushed that boy aside. The awkward teenager on the cusp of puberty had developed a deep aversion of this that had endured for half a decade before the intense inner hatred had boiled over and resulted in his abduction from the very bed he now lay in. The emergency treatment of his psyche had strengthened it, simply peeling away the layers that were toxic and rebuilding them until they were made of a substance harder than the metal jacket that forced the mighty Onix to transform.

He would make himself stronger, stronger than the ice that fell thick over the edges of Lilycove Harbor during the winter as the Ice Breakers passed the party port to drop their cargo in Slateport. It required him to temper himself physically, mentally, spiritually and this was just another step forward. A step that he had to take slowly or risk muscle spasms in his left shoulder from the constant repetitive movement.

The aching was increasing rapidly, the skin there so sensitive over a bar so hard he had to remind himself that the skin wasn't actually splitting in half under his touch. This was wearing on his mind, it would have driven him insane just six months ago but now he was stronger and could withstand this punishment for far longer than he could have before, longer than most people could. A sick thought occurred to him as he remembered his last visit to Saffron City, the sex capital of the world, and the image forever burned into his mind… the sick bastard who had used… done it to…

Valentyne snarled and forced that image around, the muscles in his abdomen and thighs knotting, his shoulder beginning to ache; the liquid fire pouring through his veins boiling hotter and hotter beneath his skin until it felt as if he had a captive sun beneath his skin as blistering as the nurseries that Deoxys was supposed to have been spawned from. The fire inside wouldn't be contained any longer and it burst forth with a startled cry from his throat, hurriedly he reached brought the wad of tissue in his right hand over the place where the fire was spilling from him.

Panting he rolled half on his side as the throbbing granite hardness, silently cursing that damnable woman and whatever hybrid psychic ability she used to stimulate recreate the same sensations as she had the first time she had touched him. The moment that he had reached the Necropolis Lola had set about tormenting him to the edge of madness before finally giving him release after he had submitted to her will. Then when she had first had him perform that exercise she used whatever hybrid psychic ability that she possessed to sneak into him mind and replace what should have been a relatively unsatisfying release into something mind blowing. Now she did it every time and there was nothing that he could do about it, if he did refuse she would show up in his bedroom and torment him all over again.

Dropping the soiled tissue in the rubbish bin by the bed he settled into the comfort of his mattress and sighed contentedly. Hazily musing that maybe the sneaky bitch did it so that he dropped off right afterwards for whatever that subliminal message was that she used. Whatever it was, it really worked. When he visited her in Mauville later that week he would have to remember to thank her again.

Hours later the scratching sound that issued from his alarm clock before the annoying drone could begin woke him instantly; his hand shot out and pressed the tiny button on the back. Rolling to his feet he stared into the mirror on the dresser across from the bed and studied himself intently, for a long moment. The intense pale color of his iris caught him for a moment, he knew the actual name of the color was honeydew and was distinctive; unique to the Connectivity of Hoenn.

He laughed out loud breaking the unintentionally tense atmosphere in his room, "Honeydew, a pastel tint of spring green named for the similarity to the color of the flesh of a honeydew melon, it's within in the deep winter, soft autumn, soft summer, clear spring, light spring, and cool winter palettes." Years of being the son of a woman who created custom colored fabrics for a living, there were new curtains every few weeks in his childhood home. There was no shame in that, it didn't make him any less of a man because he knew these things.

Running fingers through thick brown hair he sighed and stood up, making his way to the bathroom. As he readied himself for the day he repeated over and over in his head that he was an Alexandria, that he was a seafaring man of exceptional skill, that he was a guardsman.

-ooo-

Adaptation, the biological trait that allows an individual to change a behavior or change shape to suit an environment, it was the mantra and mindset of the people. It was the thing that was drilled into their heads from the moment they were able to comprehend speech, adapt and survive. This nature had become the central focus of their culture where it had splintered from another, the emphasis on the evolution of the body _and_ the mind. Adaptation and tolerance were the cornerstones of their society, two things that could be taught to their far removed cousins.

She skimmed over a most of the paperwork that had been neatly piled on the heavy red oak desk, fingers moving aside what was not germane at the moment. The telephone call that she had received from the mayor's officer earlier in the day held precedence, keeping a good relationship with Wattson Green was the first step in keeping the "Kingdom" functioning and out of conflict. Receiving the paperwork that legally made the old city of Mauville, which had fallen into a cavern after the last eruption of Mt. Chimney had caused terrible earthquakes had been just the most basic of the footwork necessary to put the colony in the Connectivity of Hoenn.

As good as her current relationship with Wattson was the cheerful man did have some very modest requests and as she held his friendship in high regards she would oblige him. If, and from the look of the paperwork that had piled up over the last three and a half months, she could find the request somewhere on the desk. The mayor's secretary had mentioned he wanted to further reach out and teach their children about Those of the Void and what they truly stood for. It was good public relations work and was helping them step out of the shadow and scorn of the psychics across the world.

The brush of fur against her bare lower legs and the solid weight of the warm beast laying against them was reassuring, a touch that was comforting and a plea for attention without being distracting all at once. Pressure on her knee where he sat his head she reached beneath the desk to run fingers through the warmth of his mane, "You have a concern?"

The question went without saying, he had ruled in her stead while she had been… consumed and therefore preoccupied with pulling herself back together. Anywhere else in the world it would have been frowned upon for him to have stepped in, the idea that he had the power to reign over people as a _beast_ was appalling. This _beast_ was far more intelligent, far more cultured and wiser than most other humans in the world she'd met.

"Volkner has sent you a letter." The startlingly deep voice relayed some interesting news, if Volkner sent her a letter than they were quickening again and the time would come soon to fight. If it concerned his research into-

Her eyes fell upon the brilliant yellow seal pressed with a Manectric stamp, that would be Wattson and his request was concrete compared to a possibility that Volkner had found something. "Sholto, do you know what Volkner is doing in the next few days? Did he tell you?"

There was a long pause that made her hands twitch with anticipation for Wattson's letter and the opportunity to help reshape the image of her people. "Slateport City for the Grande Festival, something about human women in dresses and strong sea wind he said." Greedy fingers pulled the wax seal apart and unfolded the mayor's proposal, Slateport was only three hours away, she could go and see him later without having to rush to iron out the details with Wattson and hand the ever lovely Lola over to the children with a half-baked plan.

Sholto stiffened beneath the desk as she pushed the stack of papers that covered the phone, the seal of the Firstling Kingdom on each of them which made them the least important by proxy. It seemed like the phone only rang once before he answered, "Ms. Sullivan!" the older man's jovial voice boomed through the phone, "Good to see you back. I guess that you have gotten my proposal."

"Of course Mr. Green, I'm looking at it right now."

-ooo-

Locking the door securely behind him he stepped from the wavering surface of his deck onto the solid wood and stone docks. Voess' Quay was the single largest aquatic residential district in the Connectivity and the second largest in the world, it house somewhere around five thousand boat houses exclusively for generational residents of Slateport City. Laid out like any other subdivision in and around the city there were several different floor plans in the same repetitive boat designs though each family or individual had done what they could to make their home distinctive and noticeable so their company wouldn't get lost.

Bare chested in the gloom of pre-dawn, the sun a lime line just barely on the horizon an unfathomable distance away to the east, he turned and began to jog a familiar route. He'd agreed to do this reluctantly it was supposed to be a confidence building exercise and therefore wasn't supposed to be painful or make him feel anxious. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have had any qualms about doing such a simple thing, a five mile run was effortless after years of having to run greater distances faster just to save his life. Between avalanches, mudslides, tombs, ancient cities, and angry wildlife he'd seen just about everything the world could throw at him and outrun most of it though admittedly some was by a hair.

But this wasn't normal circumstances, for whatever reason Voess' Quay had become a tourist attraction and that meant that any tours of the city would swing there at some point. When you had over three thousand tourists already with more pouring in daily it meant the streets were a lot more crowded with people he didn't know and didn't understand. Growing up in Slateport so near the water he knew just about everyone, he was a blooded Guardsmen after all he had to know the people and know the seas in order to do his job effectively. The people he had always been around didn't seem to notice his otherness and even if they did they didn't comment upon it. He was just David's boy to most of them and that was the way he liked it.

Fortunately his jog brought him into contact with very few people other than the early risers in Portsmouth and Darasville where the fishermen were heading out for the day and the vendors of the Darasville Oceanic District were setting up shop. The familiar sounds of the port city met his ears as the sun rose with increasing speed in the east painting the deep blue of the nighttime sky with brush strokes of rose and lavender around the rising disc of gold.

Turning down the narrow road the last leg of his destination lay before him, Laissman Hill was a steep incline they'd cut another subdivision into of the same name. Up each side of the incline was a long flight of stairs with sixteen 'landings' for every street they'd cut into the earth with the mighty Central Light Tower sitting atop it. The proud white structure was central command for the Guardsmen all throughout the Connectivity, administering commands and monitoring the seas.

The last three hundred feet between himself and the first stair he took at a sprint, attacking the stairs four at a time in great bounding leaps. As he reached the ninth level he settled back into the leisurely pace he'd established and could maintain for hours, great strides tearing up the distance between himself and the back porch of his mother's house. Jumping up the three stairs there he consulted the silver and blue watch on his wrist, six thirty-seven. Five miles in almost forty minutes, not his all-time best but not his worst either.

He took the stairs to the next level four at a time, powerful body propelling him upwards to his destination and the end of his morning work-out. In the sky the pre-dawn lime of the sun had turned into the rose and purple brush strokes on the canvas of sky to the east. This morning he had been fortunate enough not to have passed very many tourists on his way, the few that he had seen had been engrossed on a bike tour of the city.

He leapt up the four steps leading up onto the back porch of his childhood home, the windows to the familiar sunny yellow kitchen were open the smell of baking cookies issuing into the open back yard. Before he could reach out for the screen door it flew open and arms like tree trunks closed around his shoulders, drawing him into an impossibly broad chest. The strength of the embrace he was pulled into would likely have broken the back of anyone else, but he had become accustomed to his Ursaring of his father and his gestures.

"Devyn, m'boy!" the larger man called as he pulled his son into the sunny yellow kitchen behind him.

-ooo-

Slateport during the time of the Grand Festival was a time of great unrest and unease which seemed a stark contrast to the general hoopla and festivities that raged all throughout the port town, it was spring and having been release from the bitter winters here frozen by the chilly wind from Pacificlog carried by the west jet stream it seemed like even the spirits of the natives were thawed and had come out to play.

The excitement charging the air of the city could rival Jubilife City during the right time of year although she had to admit being "that kid from Sinnoh" seemed to be weighing against her although much to her relief the blonde seemed in complete and total control of the situation and at ease with the vernacular and habits and products that the city now seemed to be bursting with. As far as she had travelled in her few years of "adventuring" no other place had made her feel quite as foreign and inexperienced as Slateport.

Trying not the shrink in on herself Dawn tried to decipher some of the authentic Slateportian cuisine which seemed to range from seaweed wrapped rice to a kind of fruit filled tarts and other sweets and everything in between. Trying not to feel too dejected the sixteen year old let her twenty-four year old lover ease her through a region she obviously was very familiar with through the restaurant districts to the gambling advertised Slateport. She was sure that at night the board walk must've been lit up like Jubilife during the New Year's celebrations with the number of hotels and adventure planning sites, tourist traps of all shapes and sizes.

Though she was sure that Cynthia had said something about going to the only place she would ever stay when she came through by port or land, somehow she got suckered into staying for longer periods of time on each visit. From what Dawn had managed to wring out of the blonde her brother, Devyn, lived here. The other member of Cynthia's band of _rogue_ archeologists was a common sight in the travel magazine that Dawn occasionally browsed looking for information about her lover's travels and she spoke to him frequently, though at Cynthia's own admission she was an only child which meant that Devyn had to be someone special.

It hadn't surprised Dawn that she'd never met him face to face; most of Cynthia's friends were off doing something of great importance elsewhere in the world and didn't like to stay in one place for a long time. While they met annually on one of the Evergrande Islands Dawn was never privy to that meeting, it was always scheduled when the league met to renegotiate with the Connectivity of Hoenn to remain for another year. If you weren't a sanctioned member of the League you weren't invited and they enforced that rule with lethal intensity because, technically, they were still at war with Hoenn and had only called a cease fire.

Because of her inexperience with a place as diverse as this Dawn allowed herself to be led away from the flashing lights and ringing music of one armed bandits and a plethora of other machines to wasting your money and possibly give you an epileptic fit. Cynthia wove them through the thriving shopping districts with the surety of a native, making it a point to navigate them away from the main thoroughfares and any road or side street that lead to the pier.

In doing so they avoided the rush of people flooding towards the hotels and other accommodations that ringed the citizen's beach as well as those establishment that catered to the tourists and visiting sailors. From the map that Dawn had desperately studied, to give her some idea of where she could go to practice and get an edge that she would need during the competition without having anyone see, she was aware that most of the residential areas were on the hills and cliffs near enough to the beach to make a commute easy with the exception of the floating neighborhoods.

As the people started to thin as the blonde powered her up a hill Dawn moved to protest but stopped, her eyes widening in shock, impossibly shiny and impossibly blue. "What's Devyn's last name?" she half whispered. It hadn't occurred to her to ask, it hadn't been important, but now it seemed as if it was the greatest question in the world. One she would ask the Original One after a pilgrimage.

A brief flare of amusement kindled inside of her when she realized that Cynthia would probably ask something like, _"How do you make the perfect grilled cheese sandwich."_ Or _"How do you keep cupcakes moist without having to refrigerate them."_

"You said that you still weren't sure what look you were going to go with for the contest right?" the hand in hers tightened its grip and it was reassuring to the marrow of her bones, no she wasn't sure and being so far from home didn't help with that feeling although she was sure that her lover being originally from Unova of all places knew what the feeling was like.

Nodding silently she kept her eyes fixated on the house that had caught her attention. Bustling with activity inside a cheerfully painted sign outside proclaiming that it was 'Alexandria's' with no further explanation of why the porch was covered in drawings and inscriptions that ranged from childlike scrawls to true works of urban art. "This is the place to be, you'll get to examine the rest of the competition who have already secured their position but need something to wear. The people who squeeze in this week will be a mystery but I'm pretty sure you can bribe a guard or something."

That her blonde haired stormy eyed companion was right about, in the last competition she had secured her place here by snagging one of the last spaces open prior to the close out of the Bicentennial Grand Festival Pre-Entry Festivals. It didn't take five ribbons to qualify, she'd seen some people who didn't have a single ribbon but slaughtered the competition like they had obtained at least fifty.

She'd duked it out with some of the best that Sinnoh had to offer and the skill and precision that she'd seen was awe-inspiring and she'd managed entry by the skin on her teeth. Even then she might not make it to the actual spectacle at the end of the month, from what she had seen before she might only be an opening day entertainment piece.

She'd been on full panic mode; if you won a Bicentennial you had bragging rights **_literally_** for the next fifty years, and Cynthia had brought her here of all places. This place was **legendary**, Dawn's mother had paid an unreal amount of money for a dress that she had worn for the most spectacular victory over her rivals at her last contest before retiring.

She wasn't normally one to judge a book by its cover by the cover was looking pretty unappealing when compared to its grandiose reputation, though as she watched several smartly dressed businessmen walked out onto the porch smiling and waving at someone back inside the screen door. Her feet felt like they were made of lead as she was guided gently across the street, tripping over her own feet and some school children that were running to cluster around a figure that stepped out after the businessmen.

There was nothing too spectacular about the young adult from a distance, she guessed that the tall and lithe figure was maybe 6'0" or 6'1" with the unremarkable dark brunette hair that seemed to be everywhere and from nowhere all at once where it stuck out from underneath the black baseball cap with little silver handprints on it.

She felt the elation erupting inside of Cynthia, it radiated down the blonde's hand like a line of heat and into her own so strong it was tangible. Was this Devyn? As Dawn's thoughts raced she depended almost solely on her lover and luck to keep her on her feet she watched with growing fascination person on the porch now had a Chimchar clinging to an arm by a t-shirt and was smiling. When Cynthia let go of her hands the person, a young man maybe, came down the steps and caught the blonde as she launched herself forward in what could only be described as a glomp.

Dawn had to rethink her guess as to his height as she watched her lover caught in a hug that popped her back audibly, he had at least four inches on her which put him somewhere in the range of 6'3" or 6'4". He pressed a familiar, familial, kiss on her forehead and Dawn understood why he was always referenced as a brother; it couldn't be anyone but Devyn from that reaction. He released Cynthia, looked in Dawn's direction and grinned at her; it was lopsided thing that left her helpless to do anything but smile back. The man was absolutely infectious, and he had dimples… deep ones.

-ooo-

Seeing Cynthia was an expected and much anticipated surprise, the blonde's whole face had lit up when she'd seen him on the porch and he'd known what she was going to do. She'd been a rock in the hard place for him, she was the reason that he was a man, and ever since he'd saved her life at the tender age of fourteen the two had been inseparable despite the age gap and the two very different social castes that they inhabited as adults.

Cynthia Jenness of Unova was the Champion of Sinnoh and he was just a humble guardsman and adventurer, both were revered by their own radically different fans and dependents but that didn't matter. This was the sister that had never been born to his family, the first person that he'd met that honestly did not care what people said about him because of his androgyny and stuck to him because she loved him in her own way. It was a refreshing thing to experience and it was damned good to see her again. Hours long conversations over the phone had nothing on the reality of getting to talk to her in person.

"I've brought a friend." She whispered to him as she pulled back and he frowned, there were some things about Cynthia that weren't exactly what he would call 'socially acceptable' and this was one of them but he wouldn't begrudge her her vice.

Besides, since Cynthia was Champion whoever the girl was had to be legal. The blonde had always liked them young and he steeled himself for another airheaded bimbo high on the fact that she was sleeping with a Champion. Turning to the thunderstruck girl he offered her a lopsided grin, he'd always had a smile for everyone his mother always said.

She looked young, almost too young and he resisted the urge to crack Cynthia a quick one in the arm but she had to be at least sixteen. _"After all," _he told himself, _"You didn't look like you were older than fourteen at sixteen and still don't look your age."_

The black haired youth smiled back at him and he relaxed a tick, "Hey, I'm Valentyne. Valentyne son of David, son of Shannon, son of Jaden..." he stopped to consider the custom that of Slateport and that she might not be familiar with the fact that when you introduced yourself to someone new you told them the last five names of your ancestral gender, then he wondered if she knew the names of her several times great grandmothers and discarded the thought of how amusing it would be to see her squirm. "You know what, never mind." There were thousands of tourists that he could do that to later that wouldn't offend Cynthia. "Most people call me Devyn."

He offered her his hand as she finally managed to cross the street which was good, he'd wondered if she'd fall over or pass out or something. Coordinators were weird like that, but then he had to remember that while this was his childhood home it was kind of world famous and famous places made people act stupid. _"Or… she could be another one of Cynthia's air-headed bimbos."_

She took his hand weakly and he felt her trembling, "I'm…" there was an awkward pause in which she stopped to think, a hesitance that meant that she was likely weighing customs as well, "Dawn Toyoguichi." The words were steadier and she rallied from whatever she had felt seeing his childhood home and the knowledge of the establishment within combined.

Sinnoh, it didn't surprise him in the least that she would hesitate there. Just as in Hoenn, more prominently in the coastal towns of Slateport and Lilycove, you introduced yourself and your lineage they said their last name first because there was a greater emphasis on a family legacy based around a name.

There was a prickle suddenly on the back of his neck, the kind of prickle that only came when he was being watched and he didn't like it. Some may call it paranoia but as a blooded member of the untrained and certified band of archeologists that someone had tagged with the moniker 'Blue' in official reports had fine-tuned his sensitivity to possible dangers. Too many times in the last few years of life had he had to count on that sensation to keep his head on his shoulders so he immediately turned just enough to catch whoever was watching him in his peripheral vision.

It was the cluster of boys on the porch waiting for a riveting tale of his heroism and adventures the previous season and he relaxed. The little gulls were obnoxious but he could handle them, assuming they didn't all rush off the porch at once. Slyly Devyn looked at Cynthia and measured her up, making a decision in his mind in that instant, he was sure that _she'd_ have more interesting stories than he would.

"Valentyne David Alexandria don't you dare." She hissed she caught on but he ignored her and turned to face them completely, plastering his best good ol' boy grin on his face. Not for nothing did she refer to him as her 'little brother', the age gap was only two years but he took his job as the annoying little brother **_very_** seriously.

"Aw," he stretched the sound out like a petulant five year old, "but Cynthia, how often do the young sons of Guardsmen get the chance to meet the legendary Champion of Sinnoh." The boys' eyes bugged in their face, a burning curiosity in them, their focus shifting to her.

Devyn turned around again and winked at Dawn who stared with an astonished look on her face at what he'd done. "_Maybe she is an airhead, or maybe she's so used to seeing people kiss Cynthia's ass for being Champion seeing someone act like I did stunned her. Or maybe she's just easily astounded."_

He decided he didn't care.


End file.
